One of the most pathetic things about us human beings is our
touching belief that there are times when the truth is not good
enough for us; that it can and must be improved upon. We have
to be utterly broken before we can realize that it is impossible
to better the truth. It is the truth that we deny which so tenderly
and forgivingly picks up the fragments and puts them together again.
I think that when I die, I can breathe back the breath that made me live. I can give back to the world all that I didn't do. All that I might have been and couldn't be. All the choices I didn't make. All the things I lost and spent and wasted. I can give them back to the world. To the lives that haven't been lived yet. That will be my gift back to the world that gave me the life I did live, the love I loved, the breath I breathed
